


Figment of Imagination

by TheOpenedWay



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: F/M, Ghost Sex, Hand Jobs, Masturbation, Mental Instability, Smut, Vaginal Sex, Woman on Top, Yes you read that right, paranormal sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-07
Updated: 2019-11-07
Packaged: 2021-01-25 03:47:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21349729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheOpenedWay/pseuds/TheOpenedWay
Summary: After the fall of Garreg Mach, Dimitri hides away from war within the monastery. Haunted by ghosts of his past, he can no longer begin to tell which ones are real or just a trick of the mind, especially once one takes the form of his beloved professor.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/My Unit | Byleth
Comments: 7
Kudos: 100





	Figment of Imagination

**Author's Note:**

> SOOOO, let me explain.  
I watched a documentary once about a woman who had sex with ghosts and I have thought about it every day since.  
Who better to explore it with than a man constantly haunted? 
> 
> Please excuse any errors/spelling mistakes. My laptop is old and I've found that some keys are sticky. I apologize for any you may come across.
> 
> Otherwise, please enjoy!

Whispers fell on deaf ears as he stood in the rubble. He was slowly becoming better at tuning them out, almost as well as he was before the fall of Garreg Mach. He couldn’t help but smirk as he envisioned his past self, a young fool weakly attempting to stomp out the voices of those who have died. He was weak and tried to hide it. The stupid façade to fool those around him, only to come crumbling down as fast as the cathedral’s rubble at his feet.  
  
That woman… how he wished to crush her skull as smoothly as he did the weakened stone forced to powder under the pressure of his boot. Dimitri turned and began walking away, heading toward the tower he took solace in once the sun sets. Thoughts of the… emperor always made the ghosts around him more vivid.  
  
Without the sun to keep them at bay, he hid in the corners of the Archbishops own quarters. A foolish hope that some holy essence in the room would protect him from prying eyes of the dead.  
  
Dimitri stepped over dead bodies of soldiers and thieves alike. Maybe killed by the edge of his lance, or maybe from the vicious battle after the empire invaded, he knows not. His kills have blurred together long ago. No matter how they died, he still sees them in his peripheral.  
  
_Warriors… Friends, Mother… Father… Glenn… Professor…_  
  
Professor?  
  
Dimitri cannot help but look up, choosing to fully look at the ashen figure before him. He rarely looks them in the eye, it is too personal. They deserve better than to be looked down upon by the one who could not save them.

  
But it is her. It really is. It has to be. His memories revive her as the dark haired woman he fell for long ago, back when he thought that maybe he had a chance to rise from the ashes of his personal hell. But the woman he sees in the corner of the room, looking at him blankly and saying nothing, has the seafoam green color he never got used to. Her eyes match, glowing brightly in the dim streams of twilight that litter through the window.

  
“Professor…? Are you…?” his unused voice croaks.

  
She does nothing but stare at him.

* * *

  
She follows him everywhere he goes. He cannot get away. He has grown used to the others but he never thought he would see her here. He asked her if she died. Why else would she show up now? She was lost years ago, causing everyone to lose hope. They had lost the Archbishop to Edelgard’s treacherous claws and they all seemed to think that they lost the goddess to her as well.

  
But if she is only showing herself to him now?

  
Was she out there? Were they all out there? Did they battle that vile bitch without him? He wasn’t needed. He was never fit to be king. They did not need his leadership, he was useless and tortured and would only lose his grip in battle. Felix knew that all along, anyway. They must have all fought as one while he hid like a child. Ingrid, Sylvain, Mercedes, Ashe, and maybe even old friends of Golden Deer. All dutifully following the vessel of the goddess to war while he was too much of a coward.

  
But they must have failed. That is why she is standing—looming, judging, scorning—behind him as he stares at rubble. She died and his here to punish him for his lifetime of sins.

* * *

  
“Are you not going to do _anything_?” Dimitri screams into the night. “What are you _here for_?”

  
Books get tossed throughout the room. Growls and snarls mixed among curses fill the empty air. Dimitri glares at her throughout his rage, tossing holy artifacts and other things within reach at the pale green ghost before him.

  
She does nothing.

  
She never did anything. She lurked behind him as his shadow no matter how much of his body was in the sun. At night when he was alone she felt like a light, more blinding than any gleam the sun could hope to create. Her stare was so bright and vivid that it felt like she was seeing every flaw, cracking him open and seeing the spoiled, rotten, grotesque truths beneath his skin.

  
It drives him insane.

  
A lifetime of hauntings have never made his blood boil to the point that it is now.

  
Why won’t she speak? Why won’t she move? Why won’t she help him?

  
That’s her job, isn’t it? She was his professor. His guide. She was a goddess. His light.

  
Or has she truly been her namesake since the start? A demon of ash, flickering hot chaos even after the flames have calmed.

  
Desperate and hoarse from hours of rage, Dimitri slunk to the ground. What use would there be to throwing things at a ghost?

  
He sat and pondered while catching his breath. They sat like that for a while as a plan came to fruition in his mind. She was always fast, but in this moment Dimitri won the race. With adrenaline spurred speed, Dimitri stole a dagger from the waist of an old corpse next to him. The blade sliced across his eye smoothly and with no hesitation.

  
Dimitri couldn’t help but cackle because it worked. She actually moved.

  
A reaction, a feeling, an attempt.

  
The shock on her face was satisfying, so much so that the scorching pain from his self-inflicted blindness was muted. From his single line of sight he could see her hurried movements, bounding across the room to crouch in front of his bloody form. _Now_ she moves? _Now_ she reacts?

  
“You’re too late, professor!” Dimitri chortles, raising the blade with satisfied intention. “You cannot haunt me any longer if I cannot see you!”

  
But translucent fingers slap the weapon from his hand and he freezes. His remaining eye is wide open but unseeing as he calculates what just took place.

  
He cries that night, even after her faded form dissipates in the morning sun.

* * *

  
She remains closer now but still never speaks. She follows him everywhere, but he is no longer on edge at the company. She is a good spirit, watching over him instead of haunting his existence over sins of the past.

  
Dimitri cannot look her in the eyes for too long anymore though. He sees a sadness there, a disappointment. The same look she gave him in the Holy Tomb after his ruthless murder spree. That look alone haunted him for years after her disappearance, more so than the blood on his hands.

  
It stung to see it again after so long.

  
But he ignored it, as he was best at. He ignored his duties, he ignored the pain, he ignored the ghosts, and he ignored the world crumbling under fascist feet.

  
Slowly and hesitantly he began talking to her. He couldn’t look her in the eye, but he could at least speak in order to give her spirit some attention. If he did nothing then she may fade away… She never responded vocally, almost as if she did not know how. She could nod, blink, and once in a while her lips would twitch into what looked like a sad smile. It was like she was a child, learning how to be human from step one. Questions he desired the responses to most were never answered.

  
_Are you alive?_

  
_Are you dead?_

  
_Are you real?_

  
Just a sorrow-filled smile to match empty eyes.

* * *

  
The silver blade of the lance dripped blood on the ground.

  
It all happened so fast.

  
Dimitri was walking through the remnants of the monastery. His feet had carried him to the dormitories. Byleth’s specifically. Maybe she was stuck here due to unfinished business. Dedue had mentioned that reasoning for a ghost’s presence once years ago when Dimitri had commented on his own. The spirits looming around him were there since he was the only one left alive, reminding him of the guilt of his own existence. But he did not kill his professor and he was not there when she was killed. He had no part in her presumed death. Or is that why she was here? Because he was not on the battlefield bravely fighting as a king alongside his soldiers?

  
Being lost in those thoughts is how he came upon the thieves in her room, scrounging around like rats looking for anything worth any value. The heathens were too busy rummaging through her drawers to notice the seething blonde outside. The moment he snapped was when he saw a glittering blue brooch in one of the vile creature’s dirty fingers. It was the gift he had given her on her birthday many moons ago. The lowly coward had a lance through his chest before he could fully put the treasure in his pocket. The blade was released from the grasp of flesh and ribs only to slice through the other heathen in the room, too stunned to draw his own weapon.

  
Dimitri stomped on the one who attempted to take Byleth’s brooch, holding the twitching man down while he retrieved her gift.

  
He could feel her judgmental, ghostly stare as he cruelly trampled the remaining remnants of life from the room.

* * *

It was cold on the floor but he deserved to feel that way.

  
The aura of the dead around him was suffocating. The disheartened look from a pair of green eyes was boring into him but he refused to reciprocate.

  
_They didn’t have to die._

  
_Why did you kill us?_

  
_Why are you like this?_

  
“Did you ever agree with Felix, professor?” Dimitri whispered. “Am I a bloodthirsty boar?”

  
He could see through the heeled boots that stood in front of his crumpled form. She sat on her knees in front of him and he began to trace the design of the stretched lace on her legs with his eye.

  
“I just wanted to cherish what is left of you,”

  
The touch of her ghostly fingers to his cheek was cold outright but warmed the nerves underneath. His eye shot to hers and he held his breath. It has been so long since the night she touched him last. He had forgotten what she felt like, or maybe he never really knew at all. All he could do was stare at her as her fingers trailed from his cheek and down his arm to grasp his hand. Byleth guided him up so they were sitting face to face.

  
His skin still tickled along the path she had touched.

  
Pulses of electricity danced throughout the nerves in his body as she continued to dance her fingers along his skin. From his fingertips, up his arms, along his chest, the curve of his neck… Dimitri held his breath. Her eyes were heavy with emotions he had never seen within her before. Right now, in this moment of heavy remorse, death, and cold he had never seen her more alive.

  
It was hot all of a sudden, too hot for him to bear. His cloak was tossed to the side and he heaved for air. Byleth sat still between his legs. Dimitri was lost, falling deep into a pool of unknown emotion. He had just killed, he had been suffering, she was real, she was not real, what was happening? What was he feeling? Was he feeling anything at all? What did she want from him?

  
Dimitri saw blood and fire. He saw bodies strewn across a field with their souls rising higher as their temperatures cooled in the squeezing grasp of death. Two men, thieving for a living circled him, taunting over a brooch that sparkles blue. His father, looking down shamefully at the wreck that should be standing as king. A professor whose praise he wanted to most…

  
“Make it go away,” he crooned dejectedly.

  
Dimitri begged with his eye. Broken by the ghosts around him, hoping that one in front of him was here to save him.

  
His eye fell closed as she overtook him, her strangely cool yet warm temperature coursing through his body. He felt good. It was a relaxed feeling that he had never experienced before. He felt her on his lips, awakening him with a soft kiss that he could not discern if it really happened or not. It must have, because she was there, closer than ever before, her ghostly body pushing against his in a way that he envisioned at night in his teenage dreams. When he tried to touch her his hands slipped through. Byleth pulled back.

  
“W-wait!”

  
She silenced him with a heavily lidded look. She would take care of him.

  
So Dimitri sat still, leaning back against the cool brick wall as things he could not comprehend logically began to happen.

  
His pants were tugged down—by her or himself, he did not know—being grasped by translucent fingers that glowed lightly in the dark. She was soft and warm and cold all at the same time, tugging his thick length until the sensation was all he could focus on. Dimitri had never been sexual with anyone before. He saw it as unfit for a king in training to fall into such weak desires when there was more to focus on. It was shameful even to touch himself when ghosts of his family were watching. Byleth was the only one here now, making him feel things he never knew he could feel.

  
Her grasp was tight as it smoothly glided up and down every inch of him. She focused on the head of his penis, gently tugging the skin in order to get to the most sensitive part of him. Smearing the droplets of precum from his slit all around the tip, she stopped. He thought he would crumble right then and there. Dimitri opened his eye and peered at her through disheveled blonde hair. Her green eyes were impish as she returned the stare. Senses were reignited when the ghostly soft hands resumed their torture. Her hand twisted to-and-fro, gliding up and down the entirety of his shaft as he groaned. He began to thrust his hips up into her grasp, relishing the feeling of her all around him.

  
It happened in a snap, but Byleth stopped. Really stopped that time. He was glad he opened his eye to see because she was naked, ghostly pale flesh finally revealed to him. She was sexier than his teenage self could ever imagine. She glowed and he knew that she would do so in the flesh as she does in this haunting form. Her breasts were large and her stomach sloped to well curved thighs, but she was on his lap before he could examine more.

  
Dimitri’s breath hitched as she sunk down on him. He had a perfect view of her folds opening for him as his length entered her core. He could see himself fucking her. He could see himself inside her just as well as he could see the pale pinkness of her quivering cunt. Dimitri had to throw his head back and look up, biting down as hard as he could on his lip to keep himself from coming undone in that very moment. He needed this to last. His hands dug into his own thighs for purchase since he couldn’t do so to hers.

  
Once he had reigned himself in as much as he could, he returned to watch the show.

  
Her milky breasts followed with each bouncing motion of her body on his dick. Her nipples were the same shade of pink as her folds. He could not help but hone in on the show of his ghostly professor fucking him. Her thighs were strong, lifting her up until only his tip resided inside her, swiveling her hips around, and then slowly sinking back down. Goddess, how he wished he could touch her, lick her, fuck her… He could feel the molten heat of her ridged walls sucking him in a delicious grip and he gritted his teeth to keep from cumming. He had never seen her ghost so expressive. Only sad smiles and stern stares. He wanted to relish in this just a bit longer.

  
Byleth gazed at him through sooty lashes, glowing ethereal skin flushed a shade of pink that Dimitri would never forget. Her hips ground into him over and over, mouth opened to release a wanton moan. He could hear it, but it was all his own to hear. He hadn't heard her in _so long_. 

  
Her sex was slickening by the minute, juices coating his girth with each thrust. He lacked a sense of taste but everything in him wished to lap every drop of her up, his mouthwatering at the thought.  
Soon her see-through hands began to touch herself, starting at the dusky pink nipples so close he could lick them if her form allowed, moving down the length of her abdomen, her soft stomach, to the cum-glistened pearl atop her entrance. This took all of his attention—watching her rub her clit in eager circles as she rode him. It was all too soon when she started to jerk upon his lap, muscle-toned body quivering under her own assault on her sex.

  
The second her coil sprung free, so did his. He came into her, spurts of hot cum leaving his body along with years’ worth of inner tension. All he could do was lean his head back against the wall and catch his breath.

  
When he opened his eyes to relish in her post-sex glow, she was gone… leaving nothing but empty air and his own release covering his hand.

* * *

  
Dimitri was disgusted with himself the next morning. He was ashamed that things could ever get that far.

  
Was she even real?

  
Was she a figment of his demented mind, imagining her as solace in this loneliness?

  
Was he really that weak of man to masturbate to a woman who could be dead?  
  


He felt disgusted with his beastly self.   
  


The torn blonde sat there, cursing himself for everything. The deaths, the ghosts, the emperor, and his weakness, all until he heard steps coming up the stone stairs.

  
He did not lift his head, but he could see the familiar black boots standing in front of his slouched form. They were solid in color. At that, his eyes traveled up her form. She was not translucent as he had come to know for the past moons, but the healthy cream color he remembered.

  
“I…” he started, “I should have known… that one day you would be haunting me as well,”

  
There was no response, but she held her hand out to him.

  
When he took it, he could not help but smile.

  
She felt just as he remembered.


End file.
